


Lost Stars

by healthydrugs



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Complete, Cussing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Grimmjow POV, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Out of Character, Painter!Grimmjow, Poetic, Romance, Singer!Ichigo, Smoking, Songfic, Youth, deep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-13 09:00:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5702674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/healthydrugs/pseuds/healthydrugs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez has accepted his fate of a sad life that will lead to an eventually sad death. He's a painter who refuses to use the color, orange, and has a bitter distaste of a certain orange haired singer. Ichigo Kurosaki is a mysterious, outgoing singer who basically does whatever he wants regardless of the consequences. Both of them were never supposed to meet, but life has some fucked up plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blue Bird

**Author's Note:**

> I suggest listening to Jungkook's cover of Lost Stars by Adam Levine if you really want to get more into depth with this story :) It's based off of that song. This chapter is in Grimmjow's point of view and I hope you enjoy reading it!
> 
> \--healthydrugs--

_**Departure** _

 

“Yo, this is Ichigo Kurosaki but I’m not at the phone right now so you’re goin’ to have to leave a messa-”

 

_The distinct sound of bed sheets rustling over naked bodies can be heard in the background._

 

_Thud!_

 

“Haha! Hahahahahahaha! St- Sto- Stop it! Grimm! Y- you’re killin’ me here, _babe,_ p- pl- _please_ st- stop! Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, for all things holy if you do not stop tickling me right this second I will shove my foot so far up your- HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

 

_I can still remember the sound of his voice like it was yesterday. His laughter was like the sound of tinkling bells being rung on a snowy winter day. His moans could bring out the darkest sense of lust in the most innocent person. Not that I was any innocent myself, I laugh at the thought. I bet he could’ve even brought a priest to his knees and commit the dirtiest sins with him. When he berated you, even if you were the most stubborn and rebellious person in the world, you would still feel like you had wronged an angel._

 

_Ichigo was everything, but he was also nothing._

 

_Now as I lay here, I finally understand._

 

_I didn’t make him happy enough._

 

_I couldn’t protect him._

 

_I didn’t catch him._

 

_I wasn’t by his side at the most important moment._

 

_He didn’t want to stay with me._

 

_I wasn’t good enough for the enigmatic, mythical being that was Ichigo Kurosaki._

 

_I laugh. It was hollow, bitter, resentful, and something I could not even recognize anymore._

 

_The bastard didn’t even have the heart to say goodbye._

 

_The bed sheets that were long over worn and stained, rustled once again._

 

“I love you, Ichigo.”

 

_I remembered the eskimo kiss I gave him when I said the words that would certainly never come out of my mouth ever again._

 

“I love you, too, Blue Bird.” _He grinned up at me mischievously and gave me a kiss filled with fondness that I would certainly never feel ever again._

 

_I see…_

 

_I wonder if that was a lie too..._

 

_Click._

 

_-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-_

 

_6 months before the incident…_

 

Orange. _Orange._ **Orange.**

 

I fucking hated the damn color. I hated the word, the sound, the syllables, the letters, hell I hated the way the word was shaped. Orange didn’t even fucking rhyme with anything. Why it existed, I would never fucking understand.

 

It was too bright.

It shone and illuminated too much.

 

Out of all of the colors in the color wheel and the spectrum, orange was such an _eyesore._

 

I was an artist. A painter, to be specific, but I swore that as long as the moon kept existing that I would never use _orange_ on any artwork that would have my signature on it. Ha! Over my dead body.

 

I steered cleared of everything that was that blasted auroral color and anything associated with it. It was kind of childish I know, but I really did hate that color with a burning fire.

 

I stayed away from the fruit, carrots, pumpkins, candy corn, flowers, you name it. I even stayed away from that one pesky butterfly that was orange.

 

I shuddered. Disgusted by my orange-filled thoughts, I tried to mentally shoo them away in my mind.

 

And of course, there was that one giant, pain in the ass, thorn in my side.

 

Ichigo Kurosaki.

 

Ladies and gentlemen, meet the very bane of my existence and the epitome of the accursed color.

 

Kurosaki was the perfect fucking kid. He was at the top of the class and even effortlessly beat Ulquiorra at chess. That bastard was probably all butthurt under all of his ‘ _you’re very existence is trash’_ facade. I hate to admit it, but that asshole Kurosaki is probably on par with me when it comes to sports and is not all that bad looking. I even heard that he was scouted by some big shot entertainment company for his vocal skills. Kurosaki has a lot of annoying friends as well, and is exceptionally popular. On top of it, the bastard is very likely to have a loving and caring family.

 

The kid hung out with a group of annoying cunts like Renji Abarai, Shinji Hirako, and that poor excuse for a midget, Rukia Kuchiki.

 

In the eyes of everyone who knew him, Ichigo Kurosaki could simply do no wrong. Fuck, if he stabbed some guy in the gut, they would probably cheer him on and some would probably even join in.

 

Talk about fucking _irritating._ Seriously, the only reason why Kurosaki’s plaguey existence was frustratingly maddening to me was because the guy basically flaunted everything around as if he wasn’t just handed everything from a silver fucking platter.

 

Now I know what you’re thinking, " _damn you must have some serious beef with this guy"._

But to be perfectly honest, Kurosaki and I had never held a conversation even once. We were both seniors and we knew of each other since freshman year, but we have never really interacted. He was neither in the list of people who I owed favors for but he also really wasn’t on my own personal shit list. The only real connection we had were awkward eye contacts. Which honestly, was just me glaring at him from time to time while he looked away gracelessly. He never fucked with me, I never fucked with him. That was how it worked and functioned between us.

 

But goddamn, if there was a god at all, then he poured too much of fucking everything into this damn specimen.

 

Ichigo Kurosaki is a constant reminder of life’s unfairness.

 

Not that I envied him or anything. I was fine with what I had. I was perfectly okay living a life alone with my pastels, acrylics, paints, canvas, and easels. It was all I needed to get through. I could die happy with that, I wasn’t a choosy person, I was content with my life. Alone. Independent. Relying on no one to carry the heavy load weighed upon my shoulders.

 

_Until Kurosaki, being the biggest piece of shit he was, fucked it all up for me._

 

x-x-x-x-x-x

 

It was an everyday average shitty Wednesday, and I was once again skipping class. All of that magnetic electricity bullshit with ions or whatever never tickled my fancy anyway. I rolled my eyes thinking about the lecture I would probably get from my professor once I headed back, oh well, it wasn’t like I wanted to be an engineer or something. Saving people’s lives, defending someone in court, and fighting for justice against crime were pointless activities of chivalry that seemed more trouble than it was worth. Call me heartless, a monster, or scum but it was honestly how I felt. Besides, society was so fucked up nowadays, stuff like that didn’t matter anymore. It was all about the money, the fame, the recognition. I scoff, repulsed at the thought of corruption.

 

I always spent my time ditching classes in the garden of the college campus. The college that I went to wasn’t all that great, it was a community college and it wasn’t very famous for anything special. But I didn’t mind, it’s why I chose it, if I ever went to a top notch college I would probably gain attention, which is the last thing I wanted. I wanted college to drift by as fast as possible. I didn’t want to remember any memories from this place at all.

 

The garden itself was kind of small and insignificant, but it still contained a good number of vibrant herbs and flowers that surrounded the place. If you looked at it from a bird’s eye view, the garden would look like a spiral. The outer rims of the spiral would be surrounded by trees, and as it got further in, flowers of different assortments and seeds would appear.

 

I guess normal people would find it pretty or some shit, but I didn’t really find anything special about it. I usually go here to sketch, and on some occasions even paint, especially if the project deadline for my art class was due that particular day. I didn’t draw or stroke my brush with pink or yellow colors for the flowers, instead, I used black. One thing, I liked doing with my artwork specifically, was how ugly, dark, and gruesome I could turn something into. Behind the most beautiful faces, there will always be something beastly and hideous on the inside. That’s what I truly believed.

 

In the center of the garden, there was a giant tree, it was the biggest. I sat down under that big ass tree. No, I’m not going to tell you what type of tree it was nor am I going to describe what it looked like. Fuck I look like a damn tree expert? Fuck that, all I can tell you was that it was fucking big, it had a lot of pink shit, and it was _my_ special damn tree.

 

So imagine my surprise when Kurosaki that fucking nuisance strolled up from behind me and sat on the other side taking out the cigarette that was tucked behind his ear, successfully interrupting my sketch session. I was just getting started too, relishing the feeling of the charcoal gliding on the thick paper.

 

Oh, but that’s not all either…

 

“Yo, you got a light, man?”

 

Wow.

 

The audacity.

 

The _nerve._

 

_And what the fuck?_ Kurosaki smoked? Ha, whatever, it was none of my business. It kind of ruined my image of him being a goody goody, though.

 

Now, we may not know each other much, but if Kurosaki couldn’t tell my distaste of him from my death glares… well, then he was just plain stupid.

 

But, behold, I, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez did not take his cigarette, light it and shove it up his piehole like I so desperately wanted to. Instead, I became an adult about it.

 

I tossed him my blue lighter like I would if I was pitching a baseball.

 

See? Totally mature.

 

To my disappointment, Kurosaki caught it with ease and even had a tiny smirk of amusement in his fucking flawless face. _Scrub._

 

I sighed. Maybe if I ignored him, he’ll eventually go away.

 

“What'cha drawing there, Blue Bird?”

 

A vein popped.

 

My left eye kept twitching.

 

“Fuck you, Kurosaki.”

 

“You know my name?”

 

“Why are you so surprised?”

 

He shrugged, and took a drag off his cigarette. Kurosaki crawled a little closer and looked over my shoulder to get a better view of what I was drawing. He looked like he was in deep thought. His gaze on the sketchbook that was on my lap unnerved me a bit. It’s like he was observing every nook and cranny that my hand was capable of making.

 

After what felt like forever but was actually a couple of minutes, Kurosaki broke his gaze on the morbid drawing and looked me in the eyes.

 

“It’s beautiful.”

 

I blinked. Was he ridiculing me?

 

No, he looked absolutely serious, saying it with a sincere and straight face. The idiot was actually complimenting on my work of garbage.

 

I looked back at my work. There was a bouquet of carnations in the middle, all varying in shades of black, white, gray, and brown. There were petals falling from the bouquet, the petals were  wrinkled, bruised, and turning into something darker; having an ombré kind of effect. The border of the page was created to make it look like as if the paper was actually burning and the petals were it’s ashes. Not only that, but the lines were sloppy and a lot of things overlapped with each other.

 

“Yer a blind little shit, aren’t ya?”

 

He laughed. And not the little tiny annoying giggle shit that girls would do because they thought it was cute, it was full blown out laughter. And goddamn if it wasn’t infectious, I couldn’t help but crack a barely there smile. Why did it feel so fulfilling making him laugh like that?

 

Once he recovered from his laughter attack, he placed back his cigarette between his lips and  responded seriously.

 

“You don’t see stuff like that often, you know? Actually, very rarely. I’m not really fond of flowers anyway. They’re kind of meaningless. Flowers for confessions, weddings, funerals, I don’t think it really matters, because in the end they die and wither away. Just like people, so what’s the point? You didn’t do anything wrong, really, you just brought out their true nature. Nothing stays beautiful and nothing lives on forever…”

 

I stare at him almost shell shocked. I wasn’t really expecting something like that out of someone like Kurosaki. What shocked me the most however, was the way he spoke about the topic. It was so nonchalant and unconcerned, as if we were talking about the weather instead of something pretty damn deep. If I didn’t know better, it seemed like he was talking from personal experience…

 

Could someone like Kurosaki even have something like that? I can’t imagine it.

 

Kurosaki in pain, in tears, yelling in anguish…

 

Was surprisingly something I never wanted to see. I should’ve taken joy into seeing him in pure sorrow, but it had the opposite effect. I stopped, imagining it was beginning to make my head hurt. _Not to mention your heart,_ a little part of me said. _Shut the fuck up._

 

“I ain’t gon’ apologize if I said something that offended you or whatever, so don’t even think about it. I was just bein’ real.” Kurosaki’s voice huffed, reminding me that I was probably silent for a while.

 

I laughed. It was something I wasn’t used to so it felt a bit foreign but I couldn’t help the bursts of laughter welling up from my chest.

 

“You’re not too bad, Kurosaki.”

 

He scowled. “Just call me Ichigo, and I don’t need your approval, jackass!”

 

I should’ve been pissed at the name calling, but it just made me more entertained.

 

I smirked. “Okay, I-chi-go.” I stretched out the syllables almost lazily. I basked in pleasure as I saw his face, neck, and ears heat up. I laughed once again. What has this brat got me doing?

 

x-x-x-x-x

 

The next day, and the next, and next, and the next…

 

Kurosa- Ahem. Ichigo kept coming.

 

At first I was thoroughly pissed. I didn’t like company whenever I was working on something, it was distracting and not to mention it disrupted the peace that I so desperately craved.

 

Having said that, I decided that K- Ichigo was alright. Ichigo didn’t breathe down my neck the whole time neither did he ask useless questions like a pesky curious brat. He just sat there on the other side of that big ass tree. Most of the time he was smoking but I did catch him drink from a bottle of water of what suspiciously smelled like disguised vodka.

 

He was also frequently bringing his acoustic guitar with a worn out notebook he always seemed to write in. He explained it to me that he used it for songwriting whenever he had an idea or thought of a ballad. Ichigo’s guitar was black, shiny, smooth and was tattooed with all kinds of decals and stickers I’m guessing he collected over the years. Just by looking at the condition of the guitar, you can tell that it’s been used regularly if not everyday, judging by the faint scratches on the smooth wood that I’m guessing was from the strumming. The stickers that seemed to revolve around rebelling society have long since faded and that was probably how you could tell that he’s had it for quite some time. Ichigo cherished that guitar, you could tell right away by how he took great care of it and how he held it. I know the strumming and music should bother me but it honestly didn’t, I found it quite soothing. It was peaceful, I guess you could say it broke the silence in a good way.

 

Often times, Ichigo would observe me and what I was working on. I didn’t mind because he always gave me satisfying criticism about it afterwards. I found out that he liked my paintings the best. In turn, I would give my opinion to what I thought about his music. Surprisingly enough, I actually enjoyed some of his songs. He appreciated it and I felt an odd sense of achievement from that.

 

He was just always there. At first, I asked him about his other friends but he just always shrugged about it and told me that they would have to deal. Kurosaki better not blame me when he’s officially forgotten from society to hang out with some mute nobody. Sometimes, when I was so focused on the canvas that I was working on, I forgot to eat or take a break. When that happened, Ichigo would come back from the vending machine and hand me a can of soda or even share some of his little sister’s famous home cooked bento. They were pretty fuckin’ bomb.

 

When the first month came by as quickly as it came, Ichigo stood up from his spot from the other side of that damn tree and walked around to my side. He sat down next to me and leaned his head onto my shoulder. Ichigo was warm and I caught a whiff of a pleasant vanilla and cinnamon scent that I was sure was just naturally _Ichigo_. I simply accommodated more space for him and went back to the forgotten sketchbook.

 

As time flew and seasons passed, I guess you could say that we developed a somewhat sort of connection. Okay, I guess… we were _friends._ At first, I liked to think that I only tolerated Ichigo’s existence but when he didn’t come to the garden one day, I flipped my shit. I couldn’t concentrate at all, there was no beautiful music coming from his skillful hands, no stupid hums that urged me to hum along with him, no weight on my left side, and just no _Ichigo._ It bothered me to no end and when he came back the next day saying that he had to babysit his younger siblings, I finally understood.

 

I liked having him around. During the time that I’ve known him, I found out so many things. Ichigo was hilariously funny, he was daring, thoughtful, open minded, adventurous, caring, kind, serious when he wanted to, determined, humble, strong headed, fearless, I could go on for days.

 

But the biggest thing was that Ichigo Kurosaki was a fucking riot. In every way possible. He was the only person that had no qualms about being drunk in the middle of the day, saving a fat ass cat from a tall ass tree only to fall on said ass, and had no shame in about literally anything and everything. But despite that, just a few hidden sexual innuendos was enough to get the kid red as a fire truck. It was amusing to say the least.

 

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

 

_Scratch. Scribble. Scribble. Scratch. Erase._

 

It was another shitty evening in the garden with my orange haired companion and I. Except, that Ichigo was the one holding the pencil this time around. I laughed my ass off and thought I was going to bust a gut when he said that he wanted to draw me like “one of his french girls”.

So, I handed him what was my eighth filled notebook and my fading charcoal pencil.

 

I didn’t know it back then, but that was probably when I handed him my damn heart.

 

Nobody, and I mean NOBODY touched my stuff, let alone my beloved art supplies. They were like my lifeline. And the fact that I handed it all over to Ichigo so easily, definitely fuckin’ said something about how close we became.

 

“Quit fidgeting.”

 

I rolled my eyes.

 

“Then, hurry up.” I was currently in a lying position where I had my right elbow propped up on the ground and my left knee bent.

 

He playfully scowled at me.

 

“Masterpieces like these take time, ya know?”

 

I scoff.

 

“What are you talking about? Stick figures don’t take that long.”

 

Ichigo glared at me and I gave him an innocent grin.

 

“Ha ha. Just wait, yer gonna eat your fucking words, _asshat._ ”

 

“Fine, fine, if ya say so, Michelangelo.”

 

“Why are you calling me a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle?”

 

I laughed which was something I was awfully used to when I was around Ichigo.

 

“Dumbass.”

 

He gave me a soft smile from behind the canvas that showed off his cavernous dimples. My heart accelerated a little.

 

I always wondered if Ichigo said stupid shit around me just to make me laugh.

 

He really is a _dumbass._

 

x-x-x-x-x-x

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“You have eyes, sherlock.”

 

“Okay, then what are you carving on that stupid ass tree?”

 

“It’s a surprise.”

 

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

 

“You know, only couples do this, right?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Then why’d you do it?”

 

“Why do you think I did?”

 

“...”

 

x-x-x-x-x-x

 

I sighed. My landlord was being a pain in the ass that morning and I didn’t get enough sleep last night. Oh well, at least I’ll see the little bastard that got orange paint all over me yesterday later this morning. The annoying brat actually got me to use that godforsaken color, who knew? At first he pissed me off by trying to persuade me to use the color which in turn made me mad and snap at him. Ichigo, being the cuntwaffle he was, put up a fit and stomped away. The only way he would forgive me is if I used the damn thing… It was worth it in the end.

 

As I walked into the cafeteria with happy thoughts, I saw something that made my blood run cold and my eyesight basically flooding with _red._

 

I growled.

 

What the fuck?

 

He was leaning against a wall with some skanky whore’s legs around his waist, sucking his fucking face off. His hands were grasping her ass under a skimpy skirt that rode up.

 

_Whore. Whore. Whore._

 

_Why are you touching that filthy bitch?_

_Fucking stop it._

 

_You are mine. No one else’s._

 

I stomped to over where he was and pushed the bitch away. She was screeching and yelling some stupid shit like a banshee that wasn’t worth my time. My focus was solely on the orange haired vixen that dared to anger me.

 

Ichigo lazily looked up undeterred and smirked, shoving his hands in his pockets, rocking up and down with the balls of his feet.

 

“You wanna join, Blue Bird?”

 

I grabbed his wrist with a harsh and bruising grip and dragged him away.

 

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

 

Ichigo was currently against _our_ tree, caged between my arms.

 

“ _Why?_ ”

 

“What do you mean, why? I wanted to have sex that’s why.” He said as if it was the most obvious thing in the word.

 

“Yeah, but why _her_?”

 

“Grimmjow, you didn’t even glance at her, and who else would you rather I have sex with?”

 

“No one! Okay! Don’t have sex with anybody who isn’t--

 

“Who isn’t _what?_ ” Ichigo smirked and raised a thin orange eyebrow.

 

_He knew._

 

_He fucking knew!_

 

_This asshole was playing me the entire time._

 

I slammed my hands against the tree in exasperation and frustration. Ichigo didn’t even fucking blink. I indistinctly noticed a flutter of sakura petals slowly falling down in the background from the strength of the slam. But I didn’t care, all I cared about was the maddeningly beautiful creature in front of me.

 

I groaned in aggravation, gripping tufts of my blue hair tightly and crouching down.

 

“Why do you do this to me? It’s like you enjoy giving me a taste of heaven and then dragging me back down to hell, you sadistic bastard.” I whispered solemnly not thinking that he’d be able to hear what I said.

 

Ichigo laughed and crouched down to my level. He tsked as if he were reprimanding a child and ruffled my hair.

 

“Nuh-uh, Mr. Jaegerjaquez. I will not accept such a half assed confession from you.”

 

I looked up and saw him smiling at me devilishly. That smile. That fucking smile. I know for a fact that no matter how many pictures or portraits are based off of him smiling, it will never capture the beauty it has up close and personal.

 

“Fucking hell, Ichigo! If you just wanted me to do that, you didn’t have to touch that… _thing._ ”

 

“Where would the fun in that be?” Ichigo snickered like a snot nosed brat that just got away with tripping someone. I sighed heavily.

 

“If I do this, you can’t reject me. If you do, I am hunting your ass down for the next millennium.”

 

He just grinned wider and nodded in approval. I grabbed both sides of his face with my hands, rubbing the smooth tan skin and looked up into those expressive honey colored eyes.

 

“I fucking like you, okay? So, just be mine already…” I huffed out looking down feeling mortified at the small blush that positively danced around my cheekbones.

 

Ichigo tilted my head up a little and kissed me. It was like nothing I’ve ever imagined. His lips were impossibly soft and I couldn’t get enough. His taste, his tongue, his scent, everything was driving me insane.

 

He pulled away and smirked.

 

“Took ya long enough, Blue Bird.”

 

“Shut up, Tiger.”

 

x-x-x-x-x-x

 

“Would you rather… have dicks for fingers or pussies as ears?”

 

I hummed thoughtfully and continued to push Ichigo on the swing.

 

“Pussies for ears. I can’t draw with dicks.”

 

Ichigo chuckled.

 

“Good point.”

 

It had been four months since we started dating, and I can honestly say that I’ve never been happier. As someone who was born an orphan and taught how to survive the hard way, words like ‘joy’ or ‘glee’ were very unfamiliar to me. It was like using a hard word I didn’t know the definition to, to seem smart. But now, now that Ichigo’s by my side, I think I understand how those stupid romantic novelists feel. I feel lightless, carefree, blissful, _content._ There’s no knots, stress, tension, and there isn’t any overbearing weight on my shoulders. For the first time in my life, I actually care about what someone thinks and the enthusiasm to live that was never there before, _is_ there. I never thought that one person could change someone so much… But I don’t find myself caring.

 

Our relationship was a little rocky in the beginning, mostly due to my awkwardness about everything, but Ichigo seemed to take it in stride. I’m not gonna lie, we’ve had fights where I thought it was going to be the last straw, but we fought through it together. There were a lot of things that changed between us. We were closer, mentally and physically.

 

Ichigo loved to have fun. He was outgoing like that, but I didn’t like that he was so oblivious and careless about the things he was doing. If there’s one thing I learned about Ichigo, it was that he _loved_ to break rules. He loved to trespass abandoned places, violate plain white walls with chaotic graffiti, and sing to homeless people in the subway station and give _them_ the tips.

 

If there was a word to describe him, it would be _loud_. Both in personality and appearance. But I guess that’s what drew me in like a moth to a flame. I was enamored, entranced, and completely in love with this piece of shit.

 

That meant that I was _thoroughly fucked_. There was no way out if this, I was in too damn deep. I learned things about him, and I kept wanting to learn even more, down to his very core. Even if I wanted to leave and say to hell with all of these weird emotions, I don’t think I could ever walk away from him.

 

It was like the more time I spent with Ichigo, the more I noticed things about him that I absolutely adored. Often times when he slept on my lap, he favored sleeping on his side more and scrunches up his nose when he’s irritated. It’s like everything he did was kept safely locked in my brain and noted. I snort, was I always such a cheesy sap?

 

“Thinkin’ bout me, Sweetheart?”

 

I smirked.

 

“No one else, Peaches.”

 

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

 

_A week before…_

 

“Haaaaaappy Biiiiiiirthdaaaaaaaay, tooooooooo yoooooooooou. Haaappy Biiirthdaaay, deaaaar Blueee Biiiiird, Haaaappy Birthdaaaay to youuuuuuuuuu.”

 

I cringed at his off-key singing. He was doing this shit intentionally. I sigh, it was like taking care of a baby baboon regularly. I guess I didn’t mind though, on the inside, I’m kind of glad. I usually spent my birthday at home eating chinese takeout and binge watching Breaking Bad on Netflix. Spending this day with Ichigo, was more than I could’ve ever asked for. He even canceled his live performance to celebrate the shitty day that I was born even though I told him he didn’t have to.

 

“What are you doing, moron? Blow out your candles or I’m gonna do it for you!” I laugh, I wouldn’t be surprised if he blew it out anyway. In front of my face, was a royal blue velvet cake with poorly drawn letters that spelled out, ‘Happy Birthday Grimm!’, in white cream cheese frosting. There were concoctions of marshmallows, gummy bears, whip cream, pretzels, oreos and-- Is that fucking silly string I see?

  
While I was analyzing the cake that I have no doubt in my mind, Ichigo, so kindly put together, I didn’t see him sneaking up behind me and blowing out the candles himself.  I frowned, turning around to tell him off, when I see him closing his eyes and clasping his hands together. I was completely confused. After a moment or two of silence, he opened his eyes and smiled. I didn’t find myself caring anymore.

 

“What were you doin’?”

 

“I made a wish for you.”

 

My eyebrows raised.

 

“What’s the wish?”

 

He snickered.

 

“It’s a secret.”

 

Out of nowhere, Ichigo slams a platter of pie on my face. The impact from being hit with a pie head on causing me to fall on my ass. I didn’t even have to open my eyes or unclog my ears to hear his boisterous laughter. I wiped my eyes. Ichigo stopped laughing, he even looked a little nervous. I laugh internally, I must’ve appeared too calm. I stood up and took a step forward. He, of course, took a step back.

 

“Where you goin’, Tiger? I just want a hug.”

 

Ichigo’s radiant brown eyes opened wide and he turned to run, not knowing it was too late.

I laugh evilly and maniacally, almost reminding myself of that dick of a professor, Aizen, that loves to give out homework over the weekend.

 

With ginormous steps, I crept closer, grabbed his hips and shoved my face in the crook of his neck. His shrieks of disgust mixing with mines of laughter.

 

Best birthday ever.

 

x-x-x-x-x-x

 

“Ya got me somethin’?” I asked a little stunned. I can count on one hand, how many people have given me gifts. All of them I can’t even remember or dead.

 

He grinned from ear to ear, looking so proud of himself.

 

“That’s right.”

 

We were in the back of my pick-up truck, that was currently filled with blankets and pillows. Our only light source were a bunch of shitty scented candles. It was Ichigo’s idea of a “romantic way to end my birthday”. I was lying next to him looking at the moon and talking about stuff that didn’t even matter or make sense. Something I could only do with Ichigo. We can talk about nothing and anything, and I don’t think I’d find a way to be bored. I wish I could’ve stayed in this one moment forever.

 

“Where is it?”

 

He sat up, so I did too. Ichigo grabbed his guitar from inside of the vehicle and came back, tuning the strings.

 

“Awww, yer gonna serenade me?” I teased.

 

“Shut it, sweet cheeks. And ya got a problem with it? It took me like a month to write this song, you better be damn appreciative of it, shit stain.” Ichigo muttered under his breath, blushing.

 

I laughed. “I wanna hear it.”

 

He glared at me before setting the guitar on top of his lap and getting comfortable. He took a deep breath and began to strum. Ichigo’s smooth rich baritone voice filled the air, rendering me speechless.

 

_Please don't see_

_Just a boy caught up in dreams and fantasies_

_Please see me_

_Reaching out for someone I can't see_

 

I’ve always known Ichigo was talented, but I don’t think that I could ever get used to listening to that angelic voice. It was so calming that it could probably put a fussing baby to sleep.

 

_Take my hand, let's see where we wake up tomorrow_

_Best laid plans sometimes are just a one night stand_

_I'll be damned, Cupid's demanding back his arrow_

_So let's get drunk on our tears_

 

I began to listen more closely to the lyrics. I exhaled a silent laugh, this song was so _Ichigo._ I continued listening, trying to remember each word being sang to me, and _only_ me.

 

_And God, tell us the reason youth is wasted on the young_

_It's hunting season and the lambs are on the run_

_Searching for meaning_

_But are we all lost stars trying to light up the dark?_

 

_Who are we?_

_Just a speck of dust within the galaxy?_

_Woe is me_

_If we're not careful turns into reality_

 

_But don't you dare let our best memories bring you sorrow_

_Yesterday I saw a lion kiss a deer_

_Turn the page, maybe we'll find a brand new ending_

_Where we're dancing in our tears_

 

_And God, tell us the reason youth is wasted on the young_

_It's hunting season and the lambs are on the run_

_Searching for meaning_

_But are we all lost stars trying to light up the dark?_

 

Ichigo sang the last sentence very softly, but the raw emotion behind the words were so passionate. During the whole song, I don’t think I could ever take my eyes off of him, and I don’t think he stopped looking at me either.

 

“How was it?” Ichigo looked uncertain, it was a look that was rare and nine times out of ten, only _I_ got to witness it. Ichigo rarely felt hesitant, he was straight forward, confident, and he always knew what he wanted to do.

 

“I love you.” I blurted out without thinking. Ichigo leaned his head back and laughed.

 

“I wasn’t asking about me, you idiot. I was asking about the song!”

 

“I love it. But honestly if you want my honest opinion, you could’ve clanged cymbals all night long and I still would’ve loved it.” I said reaching out to pull him to my lap. I kissed the back of his neck softly and snuggled in closer. Ichigo chuckled, reaching out to grasp my uncooperative blue strands from behind.

 

“Didn’t know ya were a smooth operator, Blue Bird.”

 

“Whatever. Can I ask you something?”

 

“What is it?” Ichigo urged as he pulled the comforter over both of us and blowing the candles out.

 

“What did you wish for?” A deafening silence came over us for a while, all we could hear was each other’s breathing.

 

“I… I made a wish- I wished that you would remember me no matter what.” He whispered so low that I almost didn’t catch it. I furrowed my brows and frowned.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Ichigo-

 

“Grimmjow.” I stopped. Ichigo rarely called me by my full first name seriously.

 

“What?” He stared into my eyes. Even though the moon was the only thing that illuminated the dark, I could still see his glossy eyes with unshed tears reflecting pain and sorrow.

 

Before I could ask him what was wrong, he pulled me into a deep kiss.

 

“I love you.”

 

Ichigo looked at me right then and there as if my response was going to make or break him. Like he was hanging on to what I was going to say.

 

“I love you, too.” He sagged in relief, shoulder slackening.

 

“Let’s go to sleep, yeah?”

 

“Yeah…”

 

Halfway through the night, I thought I felt tears land on my cheeks…

 

x-x-x-x-x-x

 

The next morning, Ichigo was gone. At first, I thought he went home before his family got worried, but he didn’t leave a note or text me the way he usually did. He just up and left without any notice. I thought I would see him later at school, but he didn’t attend class. Ichigo didn’t come to the garden either.

 

At this point I was completely worried and paranoid. Was he okay? Was he safe? Was he injured?

 

I was so distressed that I decided to ask his professors if they knew where he was.

 

_“Professor Ukitake, have you seen Ichigo today?”_

 

_“...Who?”_

 

_“Ichigo. Ichigo Kurosaki.”_

 

_“...”_

 

_“Neon orange hair, brown eyes, scowls a lot…?”_

 

_“I don’t believe someone like that is registered into my class.”_

 

_“What are you talking about? Of course he is, you just talked to him like two days ago!”_

 

_He gave me a sympathetic smile. I wanted to punch him._

 

_“I’m sorry, you must’ve gotten the wrong person…”_

 

_“Like hell I did! HE’S MY ICHIGO MOTHERFUCKIN’ KUROSAKI AND IF YOU DON’T TELL ME WHERE HE IS RIGHT NOW, I’M GOING TO KICK YER ASS SO HARD YER DICK WILL CONVERT INTO A VAG-_

 

I sighed deeply as I sat down on the bench. I called him so many times I lost count, I swung by his place to find no one there, and I even checked the places he would wander often. I closed my eyes in exhaustion. Where the fuck was he?

 

I heard a group of people pass by me laughing and talking amongst themselves, their voices becoming a jumbled mess but I did recognize one voice.

 

I stood up abruptly and came up to the red haired man with tribal tattoos.

 

“Do you know where Ichigo is?”

 

Abarai looked at me strangely. I didn’t bother looking into it, though, he was probably a little peeved that Ichigo spent more time with me than him now-

 

“Who?”

 

“...”

 

“Jaegerjaquez, quit looking at me like an idiot!”

 

“Did he do this? Is he playing some sort of prank on me to have fun?”

 

“What are you talking about?! Who’s he?”

 

I grabbed the lapels of his coat and rammed him into the brick wall.

 

“Ichigo! Where. Is. He?” He gripped my wrists that was pinning him down, trying to release himself but becoming unsuccessful.

 

“I don’t know who you’re talking about! Let go of me, damn it!”

 

I looked into his eyes trying to search up with any hints of a lie or fib. There wasn’t any. There was only confusion, anger, and curiosity.

 

I shrugged him off and ran. I ran and I ran and I ran so much that I found myself in an abandoned construction site, puking my guts out.

 

_Calm down._

 

_Breathe._

 

_He’s okay. He has to be._

 

_Yeah? Then, where is he? He just disappeared without telling you where he went._

 

_Shut up! He must’ve had a good reason for it._

 

_Okay, let’s say that he did. It still doesn’t change the fact that no one remembers him or knows him…_

 

_SHUT UP!!_

 

_He’ll come back…_

 

_He promised me…_

 

_Right?_

 

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

 

I grab another bottle of beer and lit up another cigarette. I was sitting on the ledge of the balcony of my apartment that was six floors up. Not that I gave a shit about how high up I was. In fact, the ground looked very promising to me right now. I pushed the ashtray that was filled with mountains of cigarette butts aside and I knocked off a few empty bottles as well. I lie down looking at the sky. The stars were non apparent, but the moon was as clear as it could be in front of a vast background of _black._

 

It had been three weeks since Ichigo walked out of my life, but I find myself wondering when he walked in in the first place…

 

Was he even there?

 

I really am going insane… But even though I have second thoughts about practically everything that’s happened to my life ever since I met _him_ , a part of me, a _big_ part of me is telling me that everything about him is real. What I felt, what I touched, what I heard… Everything is still so clear.

 

After my encounter with Abarai, I checked up with his family. I laugh bitterly at the thought of the memory…

 

“ _I’m sorry, but I don’t know who this Ichigo is and I certainly don’t have a son.”_

 

Out of all people, it was fucking Goat Face. I was one step into beating his face in but not with the twins watching. I was so enraged and furious. Though Ichigo always acted like he hated the guy, it was actually quite the opposite. Isshin was like a pillar of strength to him, someone he could always depend on. Through the death of his mother which I could tell still greatly affected him, Isshin was always there with open arms and a goofy grin. I saw through him, and I saw how he secretly smiled when Goat Face called asking about his day. And now, it’s like there isn’t even a fragment of Ichigo left. It was like one of the people he put his utmost trust in turned his back on him.

 

I tried everything. I tried looking through files, asking people who were associated with him, and looking for any place he might’ve went to.

 

Ichigo Kurosaki just fucking vanished. Like he never existed in the first place.

 

Was I drifting towards insanity? Maybe.

 

Was he a figment of my imagination? Hell no.

 

I walk into the living room stepping over broken easels and torn canvases. Years of hard work, blood, sweat, and tears, all flushed down the drain. Aha, I wish I could say I still cared…

 

I look at the pile of polaroid pictures on the countertop. These were evidence that he was here at one point, that he really did exist. There were pictures of us all in different angles, faces, and places. I look away. I felt like if I looked at it for any longer, I would find myself wanting to destroy them as well.

 

I leaned against a barren white wall with paint splatters and slowly slid down. I pulled my knees up and hugged them to my chest. I laid my head down and silently cried.

 

_You fucking liar…_

 

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

 

_Currently…_

 

I grabbed the black chalk and sat up to drag another line down.

 

_Day 63_

 

In other words, it was another fucking day without him.

 

I walked to bathroom and washed my face with cold water. I looked up, not even surprised at my own haggard reflection anymore. Dull blue eyes nearing on grey stared back at me, dark eyebags adorning the skin underneath. My skin has become more sallow, pale and extremely unhealthy looking. My hair was floppy, longer and it lost it’s shiny sky blue gleam. I was wearing faded ripped, black skinny jeans and a plain loose white v neck.

 

All in all, I looked like shit. He would probably say the same thing as well.

 

I go back to my bedroom and lie down.

 

I reach under my bed and blindly clutch for another bottle. I pull one up and uncap it.

 

_Jack Daniel’s today, huh?_

 

I didn’t care. The stronger it was, the better it was for the pain.

 

This was basically an average day for me now. Wake up, clean up, eat, lay down, drink, smoke, go to sleep. I felt numb, lifeless, void, and hollow. This kind of life wasn’t far fetched for me before I met Ichigo, but why do I feel like I’m slowly dying everyday? I was so used to it this before him. It’s just like him to disrupt and fuck things up. I was born of a sad life and I was going to die a sad death. I accepted that, so you know what? Kurosaki can go fuck himself. Fuck him. He was my entire life’s downfall.

 

_Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck. You._

 

_Why did you change things? Why did you make me happy? Why did you make me fall in love with you? Why did you give me hope? Why did you make me want to try?_

 

_I WAS PERFECTLY FINE DAMN IT._

 

_You’re dragging me back down to hell, but this time, I’m thinking you’re not coming to pull me back up._

 

I throw the glass bottle against the wall. Minuscule pieces of glass shattering like crystals.

 

I want to cry. But I can’t. I’ve run out of tears.

 

I turn to my side and curl up in a ball.

 

If my past self would see me right now, they would sneer in disgust and call me pathetic. I don’t care. I keep thinking that a lot. But I really don’t, not anymore. I’d give up anything, _anything_ , just to see him again. My pride, my stubbornness, I don’t give a shit, because I would gladly lay all of that down just for him.

 

I shut my eyes close and clutch my phone to my chest.

 

I dial his number, remembering it by heart at this point.

 

His voice comes on, and suddenly I’m okay…

 

I repeat it. Again. Again. And again.

 

I don’t know how much time has passed but that doesn’t matter. All that matters was that moment in time where I actually wanted to pursue a future… Hell, he was my future.

 

Hours have gone by at this point because the sun has long since gone down.

 

I dial his number, pressing the buttons like my fingers were on repeat.

 

“ _We’re sorry but the number you have reached is not in service at this time. Please check or try your call again later. Thank you. Good bye.”_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Tiger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grimmjow was just a man who loved another man, that possibly never existed.

**_Emerging_ **

 

The sound of tranquil fluttering and unique buzzing of the cicadas filled my ears like a melody as the wind caressed the emerald green leaves and carried them away.

 

It was paradise.

 

It was neither the warm and musky scent of summer and fresh rain, nor was it the perfect amount of heat from the sun I felt basking into my skin.

 

Rather, it was the otherworldly feeling of safety and contentment I felt that was surrounding me whole. Gentle fingers weaved through my hair as another sound reached my ears.

 

_Humming…_

 

Other than the very familiar tune, it was the voice that caught me off guard…

It was soothing and calming, like a lullaby…

 

_Where is it coming from? Who was it coming from? For a second, I was scared. If I opened my eyes, will everything collapse and evaporate?_

 

I struggled to open my eyes, and when I did, I blinked away my sleepiness and looked up.

 

It wasn’t the sky that so perfectlyreflected onto my appearance that I saw.

 

I saw a color so bright and dazzling, I had to blink a few more times.

 

_Orange._

 

Ah.

 

How could I forget?

 

Stop.

 

Stop lying to yourself.

 

You wish you could’ve forgotten.

 

But you never did and you never will.

 

The man that so deeply engraved his mark into your soul.

 

_Ichigo…_

 

“Grimm? Haha, what are you doing? You slept for quite a while, you pulled an all nighter trying to finish a project, didn’t you?”

 

He looked at me with a raised eyebrow and accusatory glance. I didn’t care though, I only heard his voice and nothing else. It was like every other living thing stopped breathing and speaking to listen to it, because that’s what it felt like.

 

Ichigo looked at me weirdly.

 

“You okay?”

 

Ah, I remember this memory. It was a week prior to my birthday, and I stayed up all night trying to finish up a portrait of _him_ … He let me sleep on his lap as a result.

 

“I’m fine.” But I lay still. Because I _know_ …

 

This wasn’t the only memory I’ve ever relived. Hell, I’ve lost count.

 

Why am I not hugging him close to me and telling him I love him? Why am I not kissing him silly?

 

_I can’t._

 

Because every time I fucking do…

 

My fantasy ends. Everything shatters and every time I run after him, I never catch up.

 

I’ve learnt to cherish things, even if it was an illusion, even if wasn’t real, even if it’s slowly killing me inside, even if… he wasn’t coming back.

 

Because it’s all I have.

 

Ichigo laughs.

 

Yeah… this is fine.

 

He resumes running his gentle fingers through my hair…

 

 

 

“Oi.”

 

“...”

 

Eyebrow twitch.

 

“Oi…”

 

“...”

 

“Oi! Wake the fuck up ya lazy cunt!”

 

Nnoitra fucking yelled. Over and over again.

 

I groan and roll over.

 

_Please take me back, please take me back, please…_

 

He elbow drops me with a pillow but I expect it and dodge.

 

I smirk. But not as big as before…

 

“If you wanted to be in my bed that bad, Nnoi, ya could’ve just asked.”

 

“Shut the fuck up, ya dick! Anyway, get your shit ready, ya got a gallery showing in three hours.”

 

I sigh. “Yeah, yeah, get yer ass outta here already…”

 

Nnoitra struggles to get up because of the bed sheets and covers wrapped around his lanky body. I snicker to the side, the bastard hates being laughed at but it looked like a spider stuck in its own web

 

Once he untangles himself, he glares at me. “The shit that I do for shitty artists…” He mumbles before shutting the door.

 

I laugh, it was always fun to rile Nnoitra up. Nnoitra is my manager, so in other words, I get to bitch him around a little. Who would’ve thought that the guy I would always fight in high school, would sort my shit schedule?

 

My laughter dies down as I remember my dream so vividly and clear. I could remember it like it was yesterday…

 

Sometimes I really think he’s somewhere out there in the fucking galaxy making my life hell by sending me these fucking dreams that are basically a form of torture.

 

I shake my head and go to the bathroom to get ready.

 

After I take a shower and brush my teeth, I come out only in black sweatpants and head to the kitchen.

 

I turn on the tv while I eat my cereal on the couch, facing the huge window that showed the busy streets of the city and towering skyscrapers.

 

I no longer lived in the apartment close to my college campus, and I guess I am what you would call “successful”. I lived in a penthouse by myself and made a ton of money from many of my artworks and galleries. I have a lot of money that couldn’t get me the one thing I fucking wanted, is what that meant.

 

It’s funny because when we were together, I dreamed of a future of both of us. Didn’t matter if we were poor because I would work my ass off for him, didn’t matter if no one gave a shit about my paintings because I know he always did, didn’t matter if I was a sick motherfucker because I know he would do anything and everything to take care of me.

 

Nothing mattered as long as we were together, because I know we would work through it.

 

I guess the universe really fucked my plan, huh.

 

It’s really pitiful. I should be partying on yachts, getting drunk as fuck, and fucking people. Not that I haven’t tried. It just… It was boring.

 

_No one was like him._

 

He was different. He would outshine everyone in the fucking room without trying and he made me, well, _happy_.

 

I don’t give a shit if everyone in this fucking planet believes that Ichigo Kurosaki never walked the Earth, but as cheesy as it sounds… that bastard trampled all over my fucking heart and soul.

 

So as Drake would put it, nothing was the same. And nothing will ever be.

 

To say that he got what he wished for was an understatement, because I will never forget about him even in a billion lifetimes.

 

A lot of things have changed the past couple of years though…

 

You know the five stages of grief bullcrap? Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. All of it was complete bullshit. For me, it was denial, anger, anger, sadness, depression, depression, anger, depression.

 

I guess I’ve kind of accepted the fact that maybe, just maybe, he… Ichigo was never coming back. My hope over the years have withered and crumbled away. I was still waiting though, even in my fucking deathbed, I’ll still be waiting for him.

 

Was it stupid? Incredibly.

 

Do I give a shit about logic? Nah.

 

I was just a man who loved another man, that possibly never existed.

 

Wow, if someone were to make a movie out of this, they would get some serious dough.

 

On a serious note, I’m a lot more better than I was in the past but not by much. I used to drink alcohol like it was water, I still drink it, but not as much. I’ve picked up his smoking habits to calm me. I tend to fuck people with hair anything like orange, and I sleep ninety-nine percent of my free time just to dream of our damn memories.

 

I really was pitiful. I can’t believe that fucker reduced me to this. Can’t say I hate him though, I think that’s really impossible.

 

I was snapped out of my gaze by my phone vibrating.

 

_Nnoitra - ur a lazy fuk so i kno ur not preparin but ‘least u can do is get dressed fer ur own dam gallery!!_

 

I snort. Despite Nnoitra being a rude fuck all of the time, he actually got me through some really bad days. He helped me get rid of my alcohol addiction and he forced me to go out and socialize with the world again. I mean, everything was hell… but still. It would have been way worse if I was alone.

 

I stand up and toss my shit in the sink, I make my way back to the bedroom to get dressed for my shit show.

 

I decided on black slacks that were pretty fit, a white dress shirt that had the sleeves rolled up to my elbows and some buttons undone, and some fancy golden wristwatch that Nnoi got me for my birthday. I wear the outfit with some burgundy vans and I untuck it. I wasn’t really known for my class.

 

I grab my phone, locked the door and headed out.

 

By the time that I get to the address Nnoitra sent me, I curse.

 

The location was near my old college. I try to ignore the shabby building that was in my peripheral vision and head inside.

 

There I am met with one of Nnoitra’s famous one eyed glares.

 

“Yer gonna make me look bad…”

 

“Well, fuck you, too. Why didn’t you tell me it was going to be _here_?”

 

“Cram it, Jaegerjaquez, this is a good venue and a lot of important clients are here.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

“Quit bein’ a brat. Go walk around, some people wan’ talk.”

 

“Aye, aye, captain.”

 

I slip away before I got whacked in the head.

 

I walk around the gallery and talk to some big wigs. I yawn more than a few times.

 

Now don’t get me wrong, art is still my passion but my style has changed ever since. I rarely paint happy settings, I don’t use color, and I paint at least one portrait of Ichigo in each showing. It’s only his portrait that I use color. I used to loathe orange so fucking much back then, but now, I would do anything just to see _his_ particular shade. In each painting, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten the color right. Sometimes it’s a bit too dark or too light. He was also the only person I’ve ever drawn or painted, people who follow my artwork always look forward to see him.

 

I would never sell his portrait to a client though. Hell no. The thought of giving someone the privilege of looking at him all the time pissed me off to no end. I know Nnoi gets a little irritated because it just piles up in my penthouse, but no just no. Fuck that. I know Ichi would probably kick my ass if I did anyway.

 

I usually post his paintings last, maybe in hopes for someone to recognize him, or maybe I’m still hoping that he’ll actually come and see it for himself...

 

_“Grimm, what are those things that painters have for uhhh to like show their stuff?”_

 

_I laugh, Ichigo sounded soo intellectual just then._

 

_“Ya mean an art gallery?”_

 

_“Yeah! Yeah, yeah, yeah! Those!” He bounces up like a kid._

 

_I roll my eyes._

 

_“What about them, you idiot?”_

 

_“Are you gonna have one one day?”_

 

_“Hmm, maybe…”_

 

_“Okay then, if you ever have one, you gotta show it to me first, okay?”_

 

_Ichigo lets out a stunning smile when I nod my affirmative. His white straight teeth showing, his eyes are shut tight, and his dimples are showing._

 

_I couldn’t say no to him even if I wanted to…_

 

I blink out of my stupor when I feel a finger tap on my leg.

 

It was a toddler that looked to be about six or seven.

 

I crouched down to his level. “What is it?”

 

I don’t know why I was being so nice to him. I guess Ichigo’s love for kids just rubbed off on me.

 

“Where’s orangey?” He demanded with a pout.

 

“Orange-y?”

 

He stomped his foot, pouted, and pointed somewhere in the opposite direction.

 

“Orangey!”

 

I turn around to look at what he was pointing at.

 

A blank wall…

 

It had no display or painting hung up and it just showed pure white.

 

I didn’t draw him this time around.

 

I didn’t paint him because… Fuck.

 

Did I draw him or paint him? What the fuck was happening?

 

I...I don’t remember if I painted him or not.

 

Come to think of it, the memories have waned, they didn’t come as frequently as before. They were shorter and some of them were blurry.

 

I walk closer thinking that I maybe going blind. I touch the wall with my palm. The wall that Ichigo should be in...

 

I felt sick. I needed to get out of here…

 

After, I saw the toddler back with its parents, I shove my way out of the exit ignoring the cries of disbelief.

 

I ignore Nnoitra’s questioning gaze and I ran.

 

I heave heavily as I press my palms to my knees, trying to catch my breath.

 

I lean against the wall and run my hands through my hair, getting rid of the gel.

 

What the fuck?

 

I try to think back. I would never forget painting him… Maybe they forgot to hang it up, that’s it.

 

No. No fucking way. It was a famous series, no one would ever forget to hang it up. It was one of my famous pieces…

 

So why can’t I remember it?

 

As I collect my thoughts, I find myself in the parking lot of my old college.

 

Fucking great.

 

A large thud interrupted my cursing session.

 

It was near the garden…

 

It didn’t sound too good.

 

I briskly walk to the garden that once used to be my favorite place in the world.

 

I gape.

 

Half of the fucking garden is destroyed.

 

There were excavators and dozers surrounding the place. There was a man in an orange construction uniform close to the entrance of the garden, I walk up to him.

 

“Hey, what’s happening here?” I look at his name tag, why on earth would you fucking name your kid Yammy? He looked like his head was gonna break free from his helmet.

 

“Eh, what’s it to ya? Owners of the land want to place a building over here, so we’re here to cut everything off.”

 

I soak in all of the destroyed trees and bruised flowers that haven’t even been fully destroyed yet. Sadness fills me, this is the one place that no one knew about. It was _our_ place. This was where I fell in love with him...

 

“Do you mind if I take a look around one more time?”

 

He shrugs. This meat shield doesn’t really give a shit.

 

“Suit yourself, break is almost in a lil bit anyway.”

 

After a short while, the whirring ceases and all of the machines stop.

 

I step over fallen trees and destroyed plants. Christ, it was like being in a fucking jungle.

 

Once I spot the big sakura tree in the middle, I let out a sigh of relief.

 

It was dead and the leaves have long ago since fallen down, but it was still there.

 

I stand in front of it and trace the carvings that were still there.

 

I let a wry smile pass my face, as each memory traveled through my mind like a film roll.

 

_Whatever god that was out there, please don’t let me forget him._

 

I sit against the bark of the tree and close my eyes.

 

It was just like back then.

 

_...lost stars trying to light up the dark?_

 

I must be dreaming again.

 

_Who are we?_

_Just a speck of dust within the galaxy?_

_Woe is me_

_If we're not careful turns into reality_

 

Okay, was it just me or did that sound really fucking real?

 

I snap my eyes open. I’m still in the same place at the same time.

 

Why am I still hearing this shit?

 

This must be some really cruel fucking joke.

 

The music continues, and it sounds very close.

 

As if… No. No. No fucking way.

 

There is nothing on the other side of this damn tree. Quit giving yourself false hope Jaegerjaquez.

 

Even though, finding something not really there was going to grant me an instant death, I stood up and turned around.

 

It was unreal and dare I say it, frightening. Even so, I couldn’t help the excitement that ran through my veins and the anxiety that shook up my bones at the very thought of him…

 

I gripped the side of the tree, the splinters digging into my flesh.

 

I took small steps as I made my way over to the other side.

 

This was it.

 

-x-

 

Have you ever had a moment in life when you saw something that made you want to cry, laugh, and punch something at the same time?

 

That’s what I was feeling at this moment.

 

Vanilla and cinnamon were overflowing my senses...

 

A wind blew by tussling his ‘fuck gravity and physics’ hair. It didn’t look like it even grew an inch.

 

He was wearing his stupid ass Metallica muscle tee with a red and black flannel and light blue ripped skinny jeans that were folded at the end because he said he felt ‘tumblr’ when he did it.

 

His scruffed up adidas superstar was back on his feet like he never stopped running.

 

His guitar was back in his arms just like it never even left.

 

And his eyes, god his fucking eyeballs. It fucking rivaled the color of his hair. It was shining with mirth and soft with love.

 

“Yo, Blue Bird. Miss me?”

 

I didn’t even care if he was being a cocky motherfucker right now.

 

_He came back._

 

I couldn’t take it anymore. I stood in front of him and kneeled. I clutched him to my chest with clumsy hands, not caring if his guitar was between us.

 

_Please, don’t disappear again._

 

Ichigo laughed, probably at my desperation. I needed to feel every beat and every breath. He wrapped arm around me while one stroked my hair lovingly. I nuzzled his face and went back to hugging the life out of him. Fuck, I know I’m a possessive piece of shit, but I wanted nothing more than to lock him in a cage, toss the key, and put myself in it with him.

 

“Take me back.” I murmured into his shoulder.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I don’t wanna be in hell anymore.”

 

He laughed and kissed me.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo.
> 
> Haha, I hope you enjoyed that chapter because I definitely enjoyed writing it, especially their reunion.  
> I'm sorry if you were expecting the update faster, I was actually planning to update it earlier but then I caught a cold and my brain was totally wired so I didn't want to post some crap content.
> 
> Anyways, I'm still under the process of editing this because I spotted a few mistakes and I'm a complete grammar and spelling freak lol. 
> 
> Thank you for the reviews, they make me really happy :) I didn't expect people to actually like this.  
> I hope everyone has a good weekend or day wherever you are.
> 
> \--healthydrugs--
> 
> ps, I'm posting a new story about this pairing and this time it will be longer and it will include an obese Grimmjow and a trainer Ichigo lmao. I'll definitely have fun with that haha. Hope you stick around for it!


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